Serial Killers Know How To Party
by ohemgeeitscoley
Summary: Felicity Queen is the victim Starling City won't be able to ignore.


Felicity's head was throbbing, but when she tried to move her hand down to her face to rub the headache away nothing happened. She tried keeping herself calm, but when she tried again she was faced with the same result. She felt the panic start to settle in her body as she tried moving something, anything, else. Her eyes remained shut, her legs unmoving, her body felt frozen.

She wasn't sure if she had been drugged, or if her body was in shock, but she had a feeling whichever one it was, it was wearing off. She was unable to move still, but feeling was slowly returning to limbs. Something was around her wrists, holding her hands above her head. She was hanging above the ground she realized, the tips of her toes were brushing against something cold, and she was almost positive that she was moving one of them. She tried to move her hands and was able to move at least a finger or two. Her eyes were starting to flutter open when she felt a hand collide with her face.

Her eyes flew open and whatever had been keeping her body frozen was gone. She looked at the man that was standing in front of her and dread filled her body. Lance had brought her his file a month ago. The police department knew he was the one, but they had no evidence and nothing to hold him on. Starling City was still trying to make its comeback from the destruction in the Glades five years ago, and the last thing the city higher-ups wanted was a serial killer on the loose. So they were covering the tracks, keeping it out of the news, and were given strict orders to do whatever it took to get him off the streets. Green Arrow was the logical choice.

Oliver hadn't been convinced that Owen Michaels was the killer. Felicity couldn't blame him, the file Lance handed her didn't have any concrete evidence, only suspicions and hunches. And even then, some of the suspicions and hunches came across more as a witch hunt than based in any sort of fact. So she and Diggle agreed with him, they would wait until they had something more substantial to connect him to the murders. There had been 8 bodies turn up around Starling City, all with the same cause of death: blood loss. From the pictures that Felicity had seen, he started off with small cuts before inflicting larger ones.

The police couldn't figure out why the girls were kept alive for so long, but one look around the area she was in and the answer was clear. There were jars all over the walls filled with blood, and one look down at her feet confirmed that he was ready to collect hers. Felicity closed her eyes wishing that she hadn't agreed with Oliver, that he had just killed him the day Lance handed her his file.

"Why am I here?" Felicity's voice surprised her. She had expected it to be weak and scratchy, but the voice that came out of her was strong and angry. Owen noticed it as well judging by the pain that shot down her stomach as he slid a knife against it. He smiled as she cried out.

"The city doesn't know who I am. City officials are working left and right to keep my story hidden, and I'm tired of it. If I wanted to be ignored I would have stayed home."

Felicity looked at him. "I'm here because you have mommy issues?" Felicity bit the inside of her cheek trying to keep the noise down as he ran the knife down the inside of her left thigh. She could hear her blood dripping into the jars beneath her slow and steady.

"You're here because the news won't be able to ignore this story."

Felicity closed her eyes. That was his play. He didn't know about Oliver. He wanted her for different reasons, reasons that should work in her favor. She knew Oliver and Diggle would find her. She was going to be safe.

That thought lost part of its meaning once Owen placed an identical cut down her right thigh, "You're going to regret this," Felicity managed to get out after working through the pain.

He laughed. "No, Mrs. Queen, I'm going to be infamous."

Felicity's eyes fluttered open. She groaned at the pain in her arms, she never gave much thought to how painful it would be to have her arms stuck above her head for long periods of time. As it turned out, it was pretty painful.

She forced her eyes to look anywhere that wasn't the jars beneath her feet, the cuts in her thighs. She could feel the blood that was dry against her skin and her stomach turned whenever she thought of what she must look like: strung up in her bra and underwear, blood caked against her body. She closed her eyes trying to focus on her anger, she knew she wasn't going to make it out of here if she broke down.

So she focused on what was around her. She was clearly underground. She guessed that the door Owen had walked out of before she passed out was the only way in it out. Other than the jars of blood there was nothing to help her gauge where she was. She couldn't move. She knew she was trapped.

She hated this. Hated feeling weak, hated relying on Oliver and John to rescue her. What had been the point of them teaching her how to protect herself if she couldn't when it mattered? She heard herself sob before her body registered the tears on her face. She tried to move her hands to wipe them away, her cries only growing when she remembered she couldn't.

She made the mistake of looking down then, her eyes zeroing in on the jars. If she was being honest, she expected more blood. Her insides tightened at the thought of how much more blood was going to be needed to fill a jar. She could see parts of the cuts on her thighs and she had to squeeze her eyes shut to stop from throwing up. Apparently being Oliver Queen's wife meant he was skipping the baby cuts.

She wondered if Oliver even knew she was missing yet, or if he was going through his day thinking she was safe and sound. She wasn't sure when she had been taken exactly, she remembered leaving for work, but she couldn't remember if she ever made it. She wasn't sure how long she had been gone. Hours? Days? Did Owen already leak her kidnapping? Was the press buying it?

She tried pushing the questions from her head. Wondering wasn't going to do her any good. She tried remembering anything she had with her that Oliver or John could trace. She knew Owen was smart enough to get rid of the obvious things, her phone, her tablet, but Oliver was paranoid. All three of them had random items that could be traced, things that wouldn't set off alarms if they were taken.

But Felicity had gotten comfortable, and she couldn't remember if she had anything. She was beginning to realize that Oliver might not find her. That she might be the next body to turn up in Starling City. The body that brings Owen Michaels the infamy he craved.

The thought froze everything in her. And when he walked back into the room, she understood true terror. The smile on his face made her stomach drop. With every step he took toward her, her heart sped up. She knew this was the reaction he wanted, the one he needed, and she was trying to be strong. Trying to hang on to the hope that she would be saved.

But when his hands cupped her face and forced her to look at him, she knew she had failed. His success was written all over his face. He had won, and he knew it. She closed her eyes, refusing to stop trying.

"Your husband started a manhunt. Offering more money than anyone would know what to do with to find you." Owen walked away from her, running a hand over sharp objects contemplating which one to use. "I don't understand it really. You and him." His hand hovered over a rusted knife before grabbing it and walking back toward her. "There must be more to you than meets the eye to keep Oliver Queen faithful."

Felicity groaned when he placed the knife at the top of the cut on her right thigh. He twirled the knife against her skin, digging it in ever so slightly. His voice was rough when he leaned in to whisper in her ear, pressing the knife into her skin. "That is, unless he isn't."

Felicity tried to turn her head away from his mouth, but he used his free hand to grab her head holding her in place. She bit her lip, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

He stared at her for a moment longer before letting go of her head and taking a step back. Her eyes slammed shut as he pushed the knife in deeper, dragging it down following the line that he placed on her earlier. He started laughing as he pulled the knife out, placing it against the cut on her other leg, "I wonder if he would still want you, if you managed to survive."

To Felicity's surprise, his words gave her something to focus on beside the pain and the terror. She forced her brain to think about Oliver. Her Oliver. The one that was going to find her, who would save her. The one that wouldn't care about the scars that were being inflicted on her. The Oliver that actually got so flustered while trying to ask her out the first time that she ended up saying yes and hoping that he actually was asking her out. The man that had horrible things happen to him, and while she knew it wasn't always easy for him, was still moving on. He still had nightmares, there were memories of his that Felicity wasn't sure she would ever hear, but he was alive. He laughed, he smiled, he loved. God, he loved with such purity it hurt her to think of never being able to see him again.

She felt it though, and she smiled while opening her eyes and looking at the man carving into her skin. "You'll never understand," she whispered, her voice dry and cracking, "and I feel sorry for you. You'll never..."

Felicity's sentence was cut off by a sharp pain in the right side of her stomach, followed by another a little bit over. Maybe taunting the guy with the knife hadn't been her smartest idea. Her eyesight was starting to blur and all she could hear was blood rushing through her ears. She thought she heard Oliver's voice, and she struggled to open her eyes. When she did and saw his face in front of hers, she smiled thankful that her brain was able to think of him before stopping all together.

Her eyes started to shut again, and she heard Oliver shouting her name. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt so heavy. It didn't click in her head that Oliver was really there, and wasn't just her brain's attempt at comforting her, until her arms fell down from above her head and he was pulling her closer.

"Oliver?" Felicity's voice was barely above a whisper, but she could feel his hands tightening against her.

"Shh. I've got you. You're going to be fine. We're going to get you out of here."

Her head fell against his shoulder. She could hear him moving, the sounds of doors opening, and what she thought might be a siren.

"I'm so so-"

"Don't. You do not even think about apologizing for this Felicity."

"Don't blame yourself. Please. If I don't-"

"You've going to be fine."

Felicity didn't say anything. She had never felt this way. Her body felt light, her brain clouded. She felt the atmosphere around her change and she knew that Oliver must have gotten her outside. She was positive she heard sirens now.

"I love you."

Felicity felt Oliver's breath catch. "I love you, too. I need you to stay with me, okay? I can't lose you Felicity."

Felicity tried, but she couldn't keep fighting the wave that overcame her.

Felicity felt herself being pulled from her dream, and she tried to hold on. She knew that once she was awake she would be back in that room, back with Owen. But in her dream she was safe. Oliver saved her. She wasn't ready for reality yet.

When it did win out, she was surprised to find herself in a hospital room. She turned her head when Oliver raised her hand to his mouth, kissing the inside of her wrist.

She smiled at him. "I thought I was dreaming."

Oliver closed his eyes, unmoving. Felicity didn't say anything else. She just looked at him, watching as he tried to figure out what to say.

"I am so sorry. I should have found you sooner. He never should have been able to get close enough to you-" Oliver's voice cracked and Felicity felt her heart clench.

Felicity remained silent, but tried to move around the bed to make room for him. He took the hint, helping her move until he could fit next to her. "You're going to have to get over that guilt trip, Mr. Queen. I won't have you blaming yourself for this. So do what you need to get over it. This wasn't my fault, this isn't your fault, and that's that."

Oliver sighed. "Felicity-"

"Don't Oliver. Judging by the amount of pain I am in, I don't think I'm going to want to see myself naked ever again, and I don't need to deal with your guilt. I'm going to be selfish about this, and you are going to deal with it."

Felicity sighed waiting for Oliver to say something, but he didn't. She turned her head to look at him. "I hate this."

Oliver kissed the top of her forehead. "I know."

Felicity bit the inside of her lip, trying to find a way to ask what had happened. She let out a sigh of relief when Oliver gave her the answer without needing the question.

"Dead. Very dead."

Felicity nodded, pulling herself closer to Oliver.

"You're still beautiful, you know." Felicity closed her eyes at his words, immediately wanting to stop him. "Don't make that face. You are. Scars. No scars. There is not a single thing about you that is not perfect Felicity. So I'll work on the guilt, you work on your insecurity."

Felicity opened her eyes to look at him again, slightly smiling at the look on his face. She didn't even feel guilty about the tears in her eyes because the look on his face was the look that kept her going. Her look.

"You got yourself a deal, Queen."

"Holding you to that, Mrs. Queen."


End file.
